“Yes, sir; it’s a laughing matter to you, I dare say.  It is very easy for a man to laugh under such circumstances;—­that is to say, if he is perfectly heartless,—­if he’s got a stone inside his bosom instead of flesh and blood.  Some men are made of stone, I know, and are troubled with no feelings.”

“What is it you want me to say?  You pretend to know all about it, and it wouldn’t be civil in me to contradict you.”

“What is it I want?  You know very well what I want; or rather, I don’t want anything.  What is it to me?  It is nothing to me about L. D. You can go down to Allington and do what you like for me.  Only I hate such ways.”

“What ways, Amelia?”

“What ways!  Now, look here, Johnny:  I’m not going to make a fool of myself for any man.  When I came home here three months ago—­and I wish I never had;”—­she paused here a moment, waiting for a word of tenderness; but as the word of tenderness did not come, she went on—­“but when I did come home, I didn’t think there was a man in all London could make me care for him,—­that I didn’t.  And now you’re going away, without so much as hardly saying a word to me.”  And then she brought out her handkerchief.

“What am I to say, when you keep on scolding me all the time?”

“Scolding you!—­And me too!  No, Johnny, I ain’t scolding you, and don’t mean to.  If it’s to be all over between us, say the word, and I’ll take myself away out of the house before you come back again.  I’ve had no secrets from you.  I can go back to my business in Manchester, though it is beneath my birth, and not what I’ve been used to.  If L. D. is more to you than I am, I won’t stand in your way.  Only say the word.”

L. D. was more to him than Amelia Roper,—­ten times more to him.  L. D. would have been everything to him, and Amelia Roper was worse than nothing.  He felt all this at the moment, and struggled hard to collect an amount of courage that would make him free.

“Say the word,” said she, rising on her feet before him, “and all between you and me shall be over.  I have got your promise, but I’d scorn to take advantage.  If Amelia hasn’t got your heart, she’d despise to take your hand.  Only I must have an answer.”

It would seem that an easy way of escape was offered to him; but the lady probably knew that the way as offered by her was not easy to such an one as John Eames.

“Amelia,” he said, still keeping his seat.

“Well, sir?”

“You know I love you.”

“And about L. D.?”

“If you choose to believe all the nonsense that Cradell puts into your head, I can’t help it.  If you like to make yourself jealous about two letters, it isn’t my fault.”

“And you love me?” said she.

“Of course I love you.”  And then, upon hearing these words, Amelia threw herself into his arms.

As the folding doors between the two rooms were not closed, and as Miss Spruce was sitting in her easy chair immediately opposite to them, it was probable that she saw what passed.  But Miss Spruce was a taciturn old lady, not easily excited to any show of surprise or admiration; and as she had lived with Mrs Roper for the last twelve years, she was probably well acquainted with her daughter’s ways.